


Saturday Night At Frankie’s

by BasketCase182



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Club AU, Crimelord AU, M/M, Mafia AU, Multi, Stripper AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 06:43:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17157161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BasketCase182/pseuds/BasketCase182
Summary: Emo Quartet AU where Frank runs a club and things get dangerous





	1. Warnings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [A good friend](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=A+good+friend).



I would not suggest reading this story if any of the following themes trigger you. I am also adding some of the story's content that may not appeal to others in this list. If I am missing any triggers, simply message me and I will add whatever it is to this list. This is your final warning, do not read if these upset you.

-Alcohol  
-Drugs  
-Substance Abuse  
-Sexual References  
-Swearing  
-Death  
-Mentions of BDSM  
-Murder  
-Violence  
-Mentions of torture  
-Mental Illness  
-Gangs  
-Depression  
-Self Harm  
-Animal Cruelty  
-Mentions of Sex Industries  
-Mentions of Rape  
-Gore


	2. Chapter 2

The night was young, and the weather was stormy. Younger children and responsible adults would be fast asleep by this time. 

There were, however, a group of celebrities and nobodies that were planning on spending their Saturday night at Frankie's.

Frankie's was a smaller club on the rougher side of the strip. It was run by none other than Frank Iero. This man deemed to be a controversy in conversations. Some people disliked him. Some people were indifferent. Some couldn't care less. A small few even knew him. An even smaller portion, of those few, liked him. Many rumors flew around about this guy. Frank neither denied, nor acknowledged them. 

Some said he was involved with some crime group, or mafia. Some said he forced drugs on his strippers. The majority say he's in a sexual relationship with the club's favorite stripper, Gee Way.

Gee, himself, was sat in his room getting ready. His room was his. No one else's. He earned his room through many blowjobs, but it was worth it. And now no one but him was allowed back there. Not even Frank. Especially not Frank.

Gee was currently staring into his mirror, working on his signature red lips. So many girls asked him what his makeup secrets were. They practically begged. Gee loved people begging him. It brought a sick joy to his twisted mind. But he never gave up his secret. He couldn't.

Gee dabbed a bit more of the ominous red liquid on his lips, puckering them up. He loved the luster of the shade. Gee closed the glass container of crimson, having been finished with it. He picked the fragile container up with a careful hand, and brought it back to the back closet. Gee smiled deviously at its contents. He placed the container on the top shelf, where no other unpleasant pleasures were hidden.

While his lips and eye lids dried, he practiced his moves. The moves he'd been doing since he was 16, and in need of quick cash.

Gee no longer needed cash. He needed something else.

 

On the other side of town, a seemingly healthy boy was dressing himself up for the night. 

Ryan Ross, was an 'artist', of sorts. From a young age, Ryan was obsessed with the idea of the human body. He saw the body differently. Upon seeing a naked body, most people would think 'slutty' or 'jack off material'. Ryan, however, saw a pure image. No makeup, clothing or concealers, simply meant the body was in its natural state of beauty. 

 

Call him cocky, but Ryan thought his body was the most beautiful. His pristine skin, his doe eyes, his face of simple purity. Ryan thought he was as naturally beautiful as one could get.

 

That was Ryan at the start of his career. What was created to be seen as, 'natural, beautiful, pure' was simply seen as porn. 

It wasn't porn, Ryan tried to explain. He tried to show people the difference. Porn was sexualized content. And frankly, fake. Ryan's art, his photos were not sexualized or fake. Ryan would walk around, and like in nature, the photographer would take photos when he saw a pose of Ryan he liked. Porn was fake, and revolving around sex. Ryan's art was real, natural and having nothing at all to do with sex. Just the purity of the human body.

 

'Slut'

'Cock-sucker'

'Hoe'

The media referred to him in the way one would refer to an attention whore. 

This, of course, lead to even more nasty comments. Hate. Certain looks from certain strangers. 

Ryan broke. His body was a temple. The depression caused him to wreck it. 

Drugs. Alcohol. Sex. 

He'd even gone as far as to get tattoos, something he said he'd never get. They weren't natural. But he now had them.

 

He covered them up daily with concealer and such. Another thing he concealed was his new habits. He didn't want the public to know he was living up to his reputation.

 

Ryan put on a pair of black skinny jeans, a white shirt and a leather jacket. He adjusted the ring he always wore slightly. Taking a deep breath, he got ready to go.

And just in that moment a limo went by. The limo held none other than Brendon Urie, and his 'assistant' Dallon Weekes. Brendon Urie was an extremely wealthy man. So wealthy, he could afford to hire a wife. 

Sarah Urie, the bell of the ball. A little girl, who grew into a beautiful woman. A powerful woman. She's always admired Brendon Urie. For his cash. It wasn't that Sarah was heartless. No, she was more of a Robin Hood figure. Take from the cruel bastards and give back. She had her own agenda, Brendon had his. They were friends, in a sense. But it seemed that away from the paparazzi, they lead two separate lives.

Sarah Urie had her own projects to work on.

Brendon and Dallon were on their way to Frankie's. Brendon insisted on taking Dallon here for a drink. Sarah had heavily suggested it when Brendon told her he was taking a trip back to Vegas. It was one of the best places for a scotch. Dallon, being still a month away from turning 18, couldn't legally drink yet. And he didn't want to either, but he did want to please his boyfriend. So he did.

The limo past a tall apartment, hosting Pete Wentz and The Trick.

Pete Wentz was an odd type. He was all over the news, in one way or another. He wasn't famous by any means. He dated famous people instead. Had affairs with them. What happened to those celebrities? Usually slaughtered a week or so after them and Pete split up. The majority saw the obvious pattern, and thought Pete was clearly the murderer. A pattern, however, is not nearly enough evidence to convict one of murder. No other evidence could ever be gathered, so Pete was an 'innocent' man. 

The Trick. The name means nothing and everything to most people. Trick was a musician, just starting up. He was starting to gather a following too. Looks great in a suit, and has an amazing voice. He goes solo. The public knows nothing more for sure, but that doesn't stop gossip. What no one would have guessed is that The Trick, the lovable charm of a guy, had everything to do with the murders of all those celebrities.

"Patrick?" Pete asked, watching Trick apply a small coat of eyeliner.

"I'm tryna get into character, call me Trick." The boy replied.

"Ok Trick, I was just gonna say good luck babe." Pete said with a goofy smile.

"Oh, thanks Pete." Trick smiled. He turned away from his reflection, and pressed a small kiss to his lover's nose. "Now come on, get a move on. I'm performing at 11, and it's already half 10!" Trick cried.

Pete threw on a nice shirt and jeans, and then hurried Trick off and into the car. They drove for a good ten minutes, Pete listening to his boyfriend singing along to the radio.

Pete stoped at the back of Frankie's. No one (except the workers and Frank himself) ever really came back here. That meant Pete could park up and walk out with Trick without getting caught. 

No one needed to know about their dating besides themselves.

 

A few of the regulars were already in the club. Billie Joe, an older guy, was sat at the bar drinking a beer and smoking a joint. He was chatting it up with two of his buddies, Mike and Tre. 

Melanie, a girl who no one really likes, sat on a leather couch off to the side of the dance floor. She used to be an extremely loved modern artist, her main inspiration being works by Warhol. She was even considered a role model for awhile. Then the truth came out about her. The real her. The truth that so many tried to hide. Suddenly, Melanie Martinez wasn't a role model anymore.

Jamia was out dancing with her girlfriend, Lynn. There were always old creeps trying to hit on the two of them, but Frank always threw them out. You could say Frank had a soft spot for the two girls.

 

Pete snuck out to the bar, as to blend in with the public.

A jazzy tune filled the ears of everyone in the club. Silence and anticipation flew among the crowd.

"Good evening ladies and gents." A smooth voice spoke. "Thanks for coming out tonight to see me. I appreciate it, I do. Make sure to tip your strippers and be kind to the bar tenders, they're good people." A small cheer came from Jon Walker, who was stood behind the bar, mixing drinks. "And now, before I come out. I need to remind everyone of something. No videos or photography. If I see a camera out I will cut you. Don't you forget that, baby."

Another few small cheers came from the oblivious crowd. They didn't know that The Trick wasn't kidding around.

"Without further a do.." The smooth voice was painfully slow and seductive saying this, as always. 

A man with a partially unbuttoned dress shirt, ridiculously tight black jeans, and a black vest walked out. 

Everyone stayed silent, waiting. 

The jazzy music had long slowed to an alluring melody. The Trick snapped a finger, and swiftly removed his vest, throwing it to the cheery crowd. He began to sing soul to his listeners. Trick sped up towards the end, getting everyone to clap along. He finished his performance with a bow. He waited for the clapping and applause to die down. Once they did, he smirked. He went close to the microphone, breathing heavily into it.

"I bet I could get any one of you lovely people to do exactly as I ask." The crowd cheered, seemingly brainwashed by Trick's charm. "I don't know. Maybe it's the silk in my voice.." The crowd clapped again, but stopped as the center of attention held out a hand, signaling to stop. "Maybe it's..my charming smile..or my sexy smirk.." there were a few 'whoop's in the crowd. Most people, girls and boys alike simply stared in awe. "Or maybe..just maybe..the thing that drives you to follow my every desire is the knife that I keep up my sleeve. The one I'm holding to your back.." 

 

Everything was silent for a moment. No one moved, no one was breathing, no one even blinked.

 

And then the lights went out. 

Just as quick as they went out, they were back on again. 

 

Everything was as it was, minus Trick on the stage. The audience cheered wildly at the performance. Trick heard the applause from behind the stage. He smiled widely. Mr. Iero, himself stood back there.

"Good job, Trick. Ya really sold em tonight." Frank patted Trick's back.

"Thanks sir." Trick nodded, holding a hand out. Not to shake, but to put his earned cash in.

"As agreed. 300 for the night." Frank nodded. Trick took his earnings and walked back to Pete's car. He'd have to wait a bit for Pete to come back out. If Pete left at the same time as him, people would get suspicious.

Pete stayed at the bar, barely sipping his light beer. He had to be sober to drive home. 

 

Next to Pete sat a man with sunglasses and a hoodie. His face was hidden, but a beard was visible. Nothing was interest, probably.

 

Pete's eyes darted from the man next to him to the door, where a doe like boy with a leather jacket walked in. He had a sly look on his face, which changed quickly to a look of innocence. No one seems to notice the slip up, besides Pete.

 

Ryan's eyes darted around the club, from the bar to the dance floor to the realm of strippers. 

 

'Oh boy, this should be good.' Ryan thought to himself. Tsk Tsk, Ryan. You can't assume things so confidently.

 

In another room, far isolated from the rest of the club, Frank sat in his office. Gee was in front of his desk, giving him bed eyes.

"Oh, come on Frankie. Please?" Gee begged with big eyes.

"Gerard-"

"Gee." The boy corrected him with a sense of intimidation.

"Gee. I can't just close early simply because you aren't feeling well. If you're that sick..then that's fine, you can take the night off!" Frank scolded Gee.

"B-But Frankie..I still wanna perform..Just not as long as usual. Won't you please shut the place down? Just for tonight?" Gee gave him the babydoll face that he knew worked wonders. Frank, however didn't budge.

'Desperate times calls for desperate measures.'

"What if I...return the favor?" Gee asked huskily, leaning over the desk seductively. 

"I-I..no. Gerard, we have too many important people in the audience. Do you realize that Brendon Urie, The Trick, Pete Wentz, Billie Joe Armstrong and Ryan Ross are all out there?! Tonight! We can't. This night is too important sweetheart." Frank decided firmly.

Anger burned in Gee's stomach, but he didn't let it show.

"O-Oh. I see..They're all more important than me." Gee made his lip quiver. He was an amazing actor.

"No! Gee, it's just that-"

"Ya know, ever since M-Mikey disappeared last week..I feel like no one cares about me. They all just cared about my brother. Of course they did. I'm a fucking rat and he was an angel. He was..he was my angel. You don't understand Frankie! I..I just..no one cares.." Gee broke down into an extremely believable sob session. 

Frank's eyes flew wide. "W-Wait! Baby! Don't cry, it's okay. It's okay. We can..we can work something out."

Gee looked up with sad eyes. "O-Okay. W-What about we make everyone else leave. And t-then the VIPs stay. I c-could maybe do a show if..if it weren't too m-many people.." Damn I'm good.

"Are you sure baby? You don't seem too well. I wouldn't want you to strain yourself." Frank said, concerned.

"I'm sure daddy. I won't disappoint you." Gee said, giddily.

"There's a good boy. Chin up. You look gorgeous, I wish I could kiss you but you're on in five. Go get ready, knock em dead." Frank said, patting Gee's hair. Gee nodded, happy. He skipped out of the office and down to his domain.

 

"And now, the main act. The wonder. The god. You either wanna make love to him or be him. Please welcome, Gee Way!" One of the hosts said into a mike. 

 

Gee strutted onto the small stage. He wore lacy black panties and a matching corset. His ebony hair was wild, and his makeup was flawless, as always. 

A loud applause came from the audience. He was the favorite at Frankie's. He was the most well known stripper in all of Vegas. 

 

He started his routine. People practically threw cash at him. They loved him, both boys and girls. He loved knowing he could turn a straight man gay, even for just a night.

Th music was low and alluring. After crawling around the stage, accepting money from strangers, gee made his way to the pole, his pole, at center stage. 

He stood up, removing his 8 inch heels carelessly. He moved one graceful leg to the cold pole, wrapping it around to secure himself. He lifted his other leg up ever so slightly, beginning to spin around, slow at first, gradually building speed and momentum. Quicker and quicker until he moved positions. His upper half faced downwards, and his legs were scandalously placed near the top of the pole, pointed. Quicker and quicker. The crowd cheered and cheered. Gee spun and spun, now switching his posture and position every few seconds. The crowd ate it up. He began rubbing off against the pole, to create the illusion of grinding. The audience practically went wild. 

 

Just as the music stopped, Gee slowed to a stop, his legs stuck out, upwards and his upper body dipping downwards. He gave a innocent smile to the crowd. They began to throw extra cash, and such at the stripper. 

Gee knew the host would gather the cash on the stage for him. He worked a deal out with him. It looked kinda off when Gee had to collect his own money, that hadn't been either given to him by hand or stuffed in his panties. 

So Gee ignored the plentiful greens on the stage, and did a bend and snap move, picking up his heels, and looking over his shoulder as he put them on. At least three people's jaws dropped. 

He smiled once more, strutting off with a hip sway. Only Gee could rock a pole like that.

Frank walked up to the announcer, scotch in hand. He whispered a few words, before walking off back to his office. He was under the impression Gee would be back there waiting for him like the good little boy he was.

"Attention, everyone. We're closing early tonight. We apologize for the inconvenience. However, Mr. Iero himself would like to invite the following people to stay. So if you're name is either, Ryan Ross, Brendon Urie, Pete Wentz, Trick, or Bob Bryar you're lucky." The voice left it at that. There were murmurs of disappointment and outrage, but no one spoke out. 

Tonight would be, interesting.

"Excuse me, but could my..friend stay as well? We're sharing a ride, ya see Mr. Iero, so if you'd be so kind-" Brendon was cut off.

"Nope. Dallon Weekes was not one of the names called. He gets to leave. Better luck next time." Frank crossed his arms.

"Oh, come on! I'll pay you well, and you know it.." Brendon grunted under his breath so that only Frank could hear.

 

"Sorry Brendon, but your underage boy toy has to go." Frank narrowed his eyes.

"H-He's not-"

"Save it." Frank dismissed the subject, not wanting to talk to anyone but his Gee at the moment.

Brendon huffed, annoyed. "You take the limo home, Dal. I can call the driver up again later on to pick me up whenever whatever this is ends." 

Dallon nodded, somewhat relieved. He didn't really wanna be here. He wanted to be home, snuggling with Brendon or maybe working. Anything but this.

So Dallon was escorted out by Spencer Smith, who worked security. 

Frank opened the door to his office. 

"Gee? Baby? I'm back." 

No one was in the office. Frank sighed, figuring Gee probably went back to his room. No one was allowed in Gee's space and Frank respected that. 

Frank sat down at his desk, slightly disappointed. He began to light a cigarette, when the door creaked opened.

"Frankie?" A soft voice sounded. 

Frank perked up instantly. 

"Oh, there you are baby! I was wondering where you went off to." Frank said with a sly grin.

Gee stepped back into the office. Frank noticed that Gee had changed clothes. He now wore a baby pink thong, and a lacy lilac bra. He also wore knee high white socks with little black bows at the front. He wore sparkly eyeshadow and a soft rouge lip stain now. He twirled his hair, knowing how it drove his Frankie crazy.

"I just went to change." Gee said, not blinking or taking his eyes off his prize. 

"You look fucking stunning.." Frank said, looking at his baby in awe. Gee was now slowly walking towards Frank, behind his back and onto his lap.

Gee smiled hollowly. "Yeah?" He purred in Frank's ear.

"You know it, doll." Frank smiled. 

Gee also smiled. He slowly reached down to the elastic of his sock, trailing his hand along the rim. It looked as though Gee was trying to appease Frank. But no, he grabbed something he had hidden inside the sock. 

After that, everything happened too fast.

 

A sharp, clean knife ended up in Frank's chest. Blood trickled down the man's white shirt and began pooling up. Gee blinked.

"Oh, my poor Frankie. W-What have they done? They..They've killed you! Just like Mikey! They fucking took you! Those..those fucking bastards! I'll..I'll get them. I'll get them all. I'll fix this. I-I-" Gee started crying, honestly, sobbing into Frank's neck. Gee hated that Frank didn't put his arms around him in comfort. 

Gee yelled, gripping the handle and yanking the crimson coated knife from Frank's chest, licking the blood off. He cut his lip in the process, smiling at the wonderful feeling of pain. 

"I'll save you, and Mikey. I promise."

~~~


	3. Chapter 3

The gathering of 'celebrities' sat on the leather couches, no one speaking. They weren't sure what to expect. 

Ryan Ross sat next to Brendon Urie. 

Ryan pushed his hair out of his face, wondering when something would happen.

Brendon simply stared. 

Brendon had always admired Ryan. But for all the wrong reasons. Brendon would never admit that he'd seen almost every photo shoot Ryan had done. Never sober, anyways. In case you haven't figured it out already, however, this is a bar and Brendon is Brendon so Brendon was not sober at this particular point in time.

"Ya know. You're very photogenic and all, but in person?" Brendon let out a whistle.

Ryan looked at him, not having to fake disgust. "You're married, scum. Not to mention, you're also fucking every other male stripper you meet. Fuck off."

"Oh, don't flatter yourself, whore." Brendon waved his hand. Ryan let out a huff, now annoyed and getting impatient.

 

Pete Wentz sat back, watching the two. He was slightly amused. Not really though. He wanted to go back to his Patrick. Not The Trick, but Patrick.

Mikey Way was in the vents, but at the moment that isn't relevant.

Bob Bryar was sat alone on another couch, staring off at the door to back stage with a sly smirk.

 

Making his grand entrance, the fabulous Gee Way came strutting from his door. He wore black leathery booty shorts, a shiner red corset and knee high red heeled boots that clicked as he walked with a black choker.

"Hello, esteemed guests." The boy smiled sweetly. No one said much in return. "Oh, am I being silenced?"

"Hi..I guess." Ryan said shyly.

"Hi, cutie! I'm Gee. Mr Iero regrettably can't come out to play right now. Such a shame. He sent me on to keep you guys entertained. Would anyone like a drink?" He said the last bit loud enough for Jon to hear. Jon nodded, and began mixing concoctions and putting tiny paper umbrellas in them.

Drinks were passed out, and everyone sipped them. There was a weird feeling in the air. Everyone felt it, but no one dared move. Everyone watched the feminine boy, who was strutting around, flirting his brains away with all the guests. All but Bob.

"So, Gee, baby. How's your Frankie?" Bob spit Frank's name out like it was venom.

"He's doing just dandy," Gee said with a stern face, "and thanks."

"For what?" Bob said, slightly confused but not really caring.

"For your venomous attitude, I'm sure it'll taste good with a fine wine." 

The two said nothing more to each other for a while, only exchanging glances of hatred and smugness. 

 

"I must say, I do admire your work." Brendon turned to Ryan.

"Thanks." Ryan gritted through his teeth. He knew that Brendon probably thought of his art as mere porn, like the others.

"It's meant to be artistic, and raw, no?" Brendon chimed.

"Funny, that's exactly what I said in an interview. Word for word. Coincidental?" Ryan cocked his head sarcastically.

Brendon shrugged. "I do my research."

 

Pete wasn't sure what to make of things. He knew no one here personally, and he had a reputation for murder. It was unlikely anyone would wanna even talk to him, lest he gut them with a machete.

So Pete sat, drinking. And drinking. Whatever was put in the drink was quite nice. Relieving. But it made him sleepy. His vision was blurry. Something was stuck in his throat. Pete coughed. 

 

And coughed. 

 

 

And fell. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And died.

"Oh! Goodness!" Gee cried, seeing as Pete Wentz had just collapsed on the floor. Shit wrong drink. Too soon.

"What the fuck?!" Bob cried, jumping up and away from the body, which had landed in front of him.

"What the hell were in those drinks?!" Brendon yelled at the bar keep. Jon only shrugged, going back to work. 

"Whatever it was, I'll have what he had." Ryan muttered. No one seemed to hear the happy boy's death wish.

"This..This wasn't supposed to happen.." Gee cried, regaining his realistic innocent look.

"I'm leaving. Fuck this." Brendon decided, getting out of his seat and making a bee line for the exit. Gee stayed perfectly still, knowing exactly what would happen.

"Why the fuck won't these open?!" Brendon yelled, tussling with the blocked doors.

"Something must be blocking it out from the outside." Gee said, with a pout.

 

"With any luck I'll be next to die." Ryan shrugged, seeming to really just not care. He did, but in a way you wouldn't expect from the happy boy.

"Surely you cant mean that!" Brendon cried in horror. Ryan just shrugged again. Such a happy boy.

 

"None of that matters now. Someone's tried to poison drinks. Isn't that right Jon?" Gee turned to see Jon Walker sweating bullets.

"Allergic reaction?" Jon offered nervously. Gee shook his head, tutting. He swayed his hips, walking over to the bar and leaning over. No one said a word, only watched the scene play out.

 

"Darling, you're sweating like a whore before confession. Trust me, I know from experience. Now, sugar. Why don't you tell me what was in Mr. Wentz's drink?"

"Vodka..cola..more vodka..lime.." Jon said. Gee narrowed his eyes, but moved away. He walked back over to Pete's body, bending down and checking the pulse. Bob was awfully close to Gee's ass. 

"He's dead. No pulse." Gee confirmed. 

"Where's Mr. Iero? I wanna talk to that son of a bitch! What kinda club is he running here? There's a murderer running round!" Brendon cried. 

"Ever heard the name, Micheal Way?" Gee turned to Brendon, cocking an eyebrow.

Brendon's eyes went wide. Everyone had heard that name. Everyone had seen Micheal's movies, and esteemed interviews. Everyone had heard his name in the news last week. Everyone knew how he'd been missing ever since.

"Umm..I..yes, I have." Brendon said, looking scared for his life.

"My brother is missing. Possibly dead. I will find him. I promise you one thing Urie, I will find him. Oh, and as for Mr. Iero, tell anyone about the events that are to go down tonight and I will not hesitate to expose you, Sarah and Dallon. Don't think I fucking won't you little-"

"That's enough, Gee." A voice sounded through the studio. Gee's eyes lit up with pure bliss. Everyone's heads turned to look at none other than Mr. Iero himself. Gee ran up to him, giving him a hug. Frank threw Gee away. Gee knew it'd happen, he was used to it. 'It's bad for press.' Frank had told him. 

Gee only smiled larger as he flew with a thud. He relished in the pain his Frankie caused him.

Mr. Iero walked down to the bar and small lounge where everyone sat. Pete's body lay still. Frank didn't so much as flinch, he looked to Gee. Gee rolled his eyes, skipping over and whispering something into his Frankie's ears. 

Frank turned to look at Gee in disbelief, but Gee just shrugged cutely.

"Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me for the moment, Gee and I need to talk in my office. In the mean time Ill have Josh come over and keep you entertained. Sorry for the inconvenience, surely you'll understand."

Everyone just kinda nodded, off in their own worlds. Josh Dun came over, starting to chat people up. As for Pete, special precautions were taken. Special drinks were made for the group, and suddenly Pete Wentz's untimely death was forgotten completely. Special.

Gee closed the door slowly behind them. It shut with a creek. 

"So..what the hell happened?"

"I-Frankie I'm sorry. It was probably my fault. I should have just gone to bed like you told me, and you know what I'm like when I'm sick and my whole mental state is worse and I think I did something I shouldn't have and I thought I killed you and it was terrible and I think I told Jon something but I don't remember what and I ran out of medicine last week but couldn't afford anymore and no one really respects me except you and Mikey but Mikey is gone he's dead I knows he dead and I-" Gee was cut off by a pair of arms around his shoulders.

"It's okay baby. We're gonna figure this out. It's fine. You're fine. Don't worry about a thing. Frankie is gonna take care of everything, you included." Frank said softly. 

"T-Thank you." Gee cried quietly into Frank's shirt. Gee noticed another shirt on the ground, the one Frank had been wearing earlier. It had blood on the lower bit of the sleeve. Gee stiffened.

"F-Frank? Can I see your arms?" 

"T-That's not important right-"

"Let me see your arm. You know the one I'm talking about." Gee's voice was stern. Frank whimpered, but obliged, holding his clothed arm out.

Gee carefully pushed the sleeve up to reveal where he had actually cut Frankie. The cut wasn't as deep as he thought it'd be. But it was still bleeding and Frank was clearly still hurting. Gee hated himself for his violent outbursts. Frank continued to tell him it wasn't his fault. He couldn't control himself but Gee knew one day he'd 'accidentally' stab Frankie somewhere more vital. Then there'd be no one to console him and that scared him out of his wits.

"I'm so sorry Frankie, I swear I am..I just.."

"Hey, Hey! Baby, it's fine. I'm fine. It isn't your fault."

"Yes it fucking is! Of course it's my fucking fault! I'm the fucking one who fucking cut you! I'm the fucking idiot who could have fucking killed you and then I'd be completely alone and-"

"Baby, I'm never gonna let that happen. I'm promise you'll never be alone."

"What good are you gonna do from the dead when I've killed you, huh?! Why can't you just let me destroy myself!"

"Gerard, stop."

"Frankie-"

"Stop. I'll pick up your medication. You go onto your room. You're in no state to preform or be around others. We can talk more in the morning but you clearly need to sleep."

"When you come back..can I sleep in your room?"

"Of course, but for now why don't you stay in your own space. It seems to calm you down."

"Okay Frankie, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize beautiful. We'll figure it all out together."

Gee nodded, heading off to his room.  
Mr. Iero had gone off to the pharmacy to pick up Gee's medicine. Gee strutted back through the club. He had to keep his persona up.

He noticed the absence of a single pair of eyes. Brendon Urie was no where in sight. Gee stopped raising an eyebrow.

"He said he was going to the bathroom." Ryan said, rolling his eyes.

"Does he not know there are none, except the ones for staff?" Gee asked.

"What kind of a club doesn't have a fricking bathroom?" Bob criticized. Gee narrowed his eyes.

"The best kind. The kind with connections all over the place, permit planners included. The illegal kind. The kind you're in right now. Frankie's."

And with that, Gee walked off to his room. And he found something that didn't quite belong.

 

He opened the door to find a past out Brendon Urie, and his closet door open. Gee's eyes went wide and he was fuming. 

He slammed the door shut. No one was allowed back here except Gee himself, and there was a sign on his door that clearly stated that. 

He bent down to Urie's level. He seemed to have fainted, probably from the shock. Gee shut his closet door. He cursed himself for not locking it this morning. He cursed himself for not locking his door but Gee was forgetful sometimes. 

"But Brendon can be forgetful too. He can easily forget everything and anything he saw that he shouldn't have. Like it never happened. Can't you, Urie?" Gee whispered to the seemingly lifeless body.

Brendon didn't answer. Gee smiled maniacally.

~~~


	4. Chapter 4

"Gee? You in there still?" Frankie's voice sounded. Gee perked up, skipping through the dark room and to the door, opening and shutting it behind him.

"Hi Frankie!" He threw his arms around Frank. They were in the back hall way. No one could see them. Frank gave Gee a kiss on the ear.

"Come on Love, I have your medication. Let's go to my apartments." Gee nodded sleepily, but didn't move.

"Can you carry me, Frankie?" Gee said with a pouty face.

"Well..okay. I can." Frank scooped Gee up in his arms and quickly ran to the stairs on the other side of the hall, up and to Frank's small living space.

Frank's little apartment was right in top of the club, consisting of a small living room, kitchen, bathroom and bedroom. The actual club below them was one big room, with a bar on the far left, a stage in the center with a few poles and bright colored lights shining, another taller stage in the far back for musicians performing, the lounge area in the front and a huge ass dance floor in front of the grand stage. Next to the grand stage is a door that leads to a small hallway, which has a door that leads to Gee's room and the stairwell to Frankie's apartment. And that's the layout, in case you were curious. If not, too fucking bad. 

 

Still curious about the building? No? Too bad it's important for the story so shut the hell up with your bitch ass complaining and listen.

It was built in 1938, originally a warehouse that manufactured and stored shoes. The company went broke less than a year after opening, and abandoned the building. For several years after, it was mafia and crime lord territory. Where would one go to get their daily fix? The old shoe warehouse. Where would one go if they wanted someone taken care of? Well, you'd have to have connections, but in short, the old shoe warehouse.

After awhile, the cops cleared the place out. The building went up for sale, and was soon bought again by a man who was supposedly involved with the previous squatters. No one could prove anything, however. So the man bought the warehouse with little problems. The man, Franklin Iero (Sr.) opened up a small jazz venue. Some 'dangerous' or 'suspicious' figure were often seen hanging around, but were always welcomed to Frankie's Place. The club became quite popular, playing only new talents and musicians. The club was past onto Franklin's son, Frank (jr.) who was an aspiring drummer at the time. Another thirty years later, the club was past from Frank to his son, another Frank. Our Frank. It had become a tradition in the family to name their sons Frank, it seemed. Frank jazzed the old place up, with strippers and black jack. It was a hot spot for new music, but only those who were looking for a non-filtered good time came, if you get my drift.

The Iero family was still heavily involved with the mafia group. More than the family would care to admit. 

Is that enough of a backstory for you? Did you get a good enough description of the building? Do you need a fucking layout of the ventilation system? I'm sure Mikey and Brendon might know a thing or two about that.

Brendon woke up with a pain on his inner thigh. He looked down and saw blood. He began to freak out. Blood and gore had that effect on him, sometimes. Most times. 

He calmed himself down, but when he noticed where he was he freaked out some more. 

It would appear that Brendon had woken up in a vent, in a pool of his own blood, that had already started to dry. How long had he been out for? 

He gathered the strength to pull himself upward. He noticed a small opening at the end of the system, so he crawled down, wincing at the pain of his cut thighs rubbing against the tight fabric of his jeans. Seriously, had someone taken his pants off, cut him and then redressed him? Had they not known that the feeling of the open wounds rubbing against the tight rough denim would hurt like a bitch? Clearly they had. Smart jackass.

Brendon got to the opening and looked out. He saw something. Something he probably wasn't supposed to. But he kept on crawling, as not to get caught. 

 

He found another opening. This one was over looking the bar. The building was old, everyone knew that. The ventilation system was old too, and frankly smelled like something had died inside it.

On that note, Brendon busted down the vent door thingy and fell out and onto the floor with a groan.

Everyone around looked at Brendon in shock.

"What the actual fresh fuck I thought you were in the bathroom?" Josh said with wide eyes.

"Well I guess he wasn't constipated then." Ryan says, shrugging. 

Brendon just groans, slowly sitting up and rubbing his head.

"Why the fuck were you in the ceiling?" Bob asks.

"I..I don't know? I was looking for the bathroom..and then I think I found one..but then I woke up in the vent? With cuts on my inner thighs?"

"Gee said there were no bathrooms on this floor.." Bob said, for once not sounding so sure of himself.

"There really aren't. The only one is up in Mr. Iero's apartment, but only staff are allowed up there. Plus, it's locked at the moment anyways." Josh said quietly with a nod. Everyone sat in silence, deep in disturbing thought.

"I..oh god. Hold on right here, let me go talk to Mr. Iero about something. Stay right here, stay together and watch behind you. If I come back and anyone else is dead or injured I might be in deep trouble and I seriously need this job if I'm gonna pay for my boyfriend to get through college, so everyone is gonna behave, right?!" Josh confirmed, going from calm to intense in 0.5 of a second. 

Everyone kinda just nodded. Ryan reached a hand down to Brendon, helping him up. Brendon grimaced at the feeling of standing upright, and weakly sat back next to Ryan. Ryan took some sympathy on Brendon, but not really because his nihilistic tendencies kicked in mere moments later.

So no one said a word in the group, only looked around quite paranoid. Occasionally, someone would let out a breath of frustration or pure boredom, but most everyone was feeling some form of fear. As said, everyone was silent until...

"Hey guys, I think I remember something."

 

Meanwhile, Josh climbed the metal stairs up to Mr. Iero's door. He knocked five times, waited a second, and then a sixth. That was the code knock. It meant it was an employee knocking. They always had to knock. That was established when Josh applied for the job.

A full thirty seconds later the door opened. Mr. Iero had his white dress shirt on, slightly unbuttoned at the top, his hair a complete mess. Josh had learnt not to question Mr. Iero in this state.

"What? You come here just to stare? You think that's what I'm paying you for?" Mr Iero snapped his fingers, breaking Josh's trance.

"S-Sorry sir. It's just..one of the guests, Mr. Urie, kinda sorta fell from the vents in the ceiling." Josh said.

"Wh..What??" Mr. Iero questioned, his head tilted to the side.

"I..Everyone had told me he left to find a restroom but they didn't know where he went so I figured he'd give up eventually and come back to the group but then he fell from the vent and had fresh deep cuts on his inner thighs and..did it happen again?" Josh asked. Frank knew exactly what Josh had been referring too. He put his head in his hands.

"I..I think so Josh. I don't..I don't know. He wasn't doing too well with his brother missing and he didn't take his medicine today and he got kinda violent and then broke down crying and something happened with another guest. It's possible. You..You know what we need to do now, don't you Josh?" Frank said, looking up with a stern look at Josh.

"I..yes sir. I'll take care of it." Josh said, trying to build up confidence.

"We can say..Well say he had too much to drink. Urie broke into my living quarters, stole my razors when he was drunk and cut himself up and broke into the ventilation system. Yeah..Yeah that's the story. Cause you and I both know we can't have another incident. I couldn't look Grandpa Franklin in the face, if I lost this place to scandal."

"R-Right sir. I agree. I won't say a word to anyone, and I'll..could I borrow a razor? I can probably get some of Urie's blood, smear it on, get his hand prints on it. Stuff like that. He's drunk, it should be fine."

"Yeah..Yeah I can do that. Hang on, stay here."

Frank went back into his apartment, went to the small bathroom, and then headed back out with a single razor, held in a gloved hand.

"Put the glove on, we can't get your finger prints on it."

"Right." Josh said, slipping on the glove and holding the razor tight.

"Hey, Josh?"

"Yes sir?"

"Why do you stick around this joint? You're a smart boy, you could get a more... 'respectable' job." 

"At first I just needed the money to get Tyler through college, I still do, but I wouldn't dream of leaving this place. You all treat me like family. And pay me like it too." Josh said, a small smile on his face.

Frank returned the smile. "You're a good kid. Once we take care of Urie, go on home. Dismiss everyone. I can clean up, just press the buzzer and lock up before ya go."

"Yeah, about that..No one can leave. Somethings blockaded the door.."

Frank let out an angry breath, his fists curled up. A small head of black hair popped up from around the corner.

"Everything ok, Frankie?" Gee asked. Josh was a little afraid of Gee, but he was used to him. He knew what Gee was like when he was calm. When he was himself. And now, it appeared Gee was himself.

"Yes baby, just head back to bed. I'll be in a minute."

"Ok Frankie, night Joshie!" He called out to us, before heading back into Frank's room. Their relationship was no secret to me.

"I know it isn't his fault but sometimes it's so frustrating. But..But I'll get it taken care of. I can go on the roof, I'll climb down the fire escape ladder and see what's blocking it. You just..take care of stuff."

"Sure thing, boss."

"Brendon, we were told to stay were we are, and as nice as it sounds to have a knife going through my skull, ending my internal suffering, that Josh guy seemed nice and I somewhat feel bad for him so sit your ignorant ass down." Ryan said with a huff.

"Oh come on, who pissed in your cornflakes?" Brendon taunted, already standing up.

"Probably the media. And I agree with Brendon. I wanna investigate." Bob said with a sly, shit eating grin.

"I trust neither of you. If you wanna go, you're going on by yourselves." Ryan crossed his arms and looked off.

"Aww, afraid I'll try and make a move on you and you won't be able to resist me charm?" Brendon teased poking Ryan's head.

Ryan scowled. "Fuck you Urie. Fuck everything you stand for. Fuck you, fuck your mom, fuck you dad, fuck your dog, but especially fuck you." Ryan spat.

"Oh, you wish." Brendon smirked with a shrug. Ryan was practically fuming with anger as he rocketed to his feet, fists balling up, about to full on attack. Bob was quick to hold Ryan back.

"Get the fuck away from me Bob!" Ryan gritted through his teeth.

"Hey, Hey! Calm down there, calm down!" Bob exclaimed. Ryan took a deep breath, before crossing his arms, and flopping back on the couch. "Good. Now, I doubt you actually wanna have a knife in your back," Bob smiled, "so why don't you come along with us. Think of it as keeping the two of us, Brendon and I, outta trouble. I'm sure it'd have some kind of positive effect with your reputation and the media." Bob gave a charming smile.

Ryan huffed, but grumbled a, 'Whatever mate, let's just make this quick and get whatever this is over with.'

Brendon smiled, delighted. Ryan was still scowling, while Bob remained looking sly.

"So, What was it Brendon, that you remembered?" Bob asked.

"A..a closet. In the back room, it was dark and kinda scary. But like...yeah. After that I remember nothing."

Bob grinned maniacally. "To the backroom it is."


	5. Chapter 5

Frank gingerly climbed down the fire escape ladder. He made it to the bottom, and then went to the front of the building, where the main entrance/exit was.

And there he saw Joe and none other than The Trick.

"Mr. Trick? Joe? What the hell are ya doing? And Joe, why are ya blocking my door with that crowbar?"

"I dunno man..I was stoned when I was told to do it and I figured it was for a good reason so I just didn't argue." Joe shrugged with a dopey smile.

"I-..Okay whatever. Just..get the crowbar outta there. And then scat, cause we've got some upper class people coming outta here. Meet me round back and we'll discuss business, yeah?"

Joe nodded, slowly going to work on unjamming the door.

"So..Mr. Trick?"

"Yes, good sir?"

"Not to seem rude, but is there a reason you're still here? I was under the assumption you left an hour ago, after that grand performance of yours." Mr. Iero pointed out.

"Well, I was going to. But..I was..hoping to..meet someone. One of the people mentioned who were welcome to stay. Could Pete Wentz come out and talk to me?" Trick asked cautiously.

Frank internally screamed, but was cool as a cucumber. "Fraid not. He took off not long after yous did."

"Are you sure bout that, cat?" Trick asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yup. Said he should be heading a home. Took the back exit. We think he left his car, but seeing how drunk he was, we were glad he wasn't driving." Frank lied through his teeth. He had the worlds best poker face, if I ever had seen one.

"Oh, thank you anyways..Mr.Iero." Trick spat the words out. That night was the last of many things for Trick. The last time he saw Pete. The last time he performed in Frankie's. The last time he kissed someone willingly. The last of many things.

 

Joe had unjammed the door shortly after Trick had gone. The others inside didn't know this, however. They were busy with their soon to be interrupted 'investigation'. They had a little too much faith in themselves.

They sucked off more than they could swallow.

 

 

"So, the weed?" Mr. Iero asked, expectantly.

"Yeah I got the weed. And the pills. And the coke. Anything else you want for next week's delivery, boss?" Joe asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, see if you can get a little something stronger..ya know..weed killer...and some dandelions for my headaches." Frank asked. Joe's face turnt solemn, and with a nod, he said,

"Dandelions and weed killer it is. Until next week, Mr. Iero." Joe nodded once again.

 

Confused? Don't care? Too fucking bad cause you're getting an explanation cause this is my story so sit down, shut the fuck up and listen.

Dandelions, roses, tulips, weed killer, lillies and blossoms. All code words for some of the most deadly (and illegal) substances known to the Las Vegas area. And Joe Trohman had access to every single one of them, which by default, meant Frank did too. 

 

I'll let you imagine what each word is code for. But allow me to assure you..if Frank Iero was ordering weed killer from Joe, then he was most definitely planning something. Usually bad, and if you've heard about it, it's especially bad for you.

Frank climbed back up the ladder, to his quarters, through the door and out the entrance to the club.

"Hello, esteemed guests!" Mr Iero says sarcastically. Josh is the only one there, looking confused and concerned.

"They..They were right here. Jon said he was on break but he said they were there when he left as well. I..I'm sorry Mr. Iero..please don't fire me!" Josh begged. 

"I'm not gonna fire you. We're gonna find these motherfuckers and we're gonna do it quick before they discover anything they aren't supposed to."

Josh nodded quickly and they both went straight to the hallway. They noticed Gee's door opened.

They exchanged looks. This wasn't gonna be pretty.

"Josh, I'll stay here. Go get Gee, quick. I'll make sure these bastards don't get out." Frank whispered. Josh nodded, quietly hurrying.

 

Less than a minute later gee and him were snaking down the stairwell. 

Gee looked ready to kill.

"Calm down babydoll. We'll take care of them. Can Josh and I go in with you? You know we don't judge. We don't call the cops in this joint. We don't care what you've got." Frank whispered in gee's ear.

Gee stood, thinking a moment. He finally agreed, nodding.

"Good boy. Turn the light on. I think I might be calling Joe up again. I need that weed killer earlier than I expected."

Gee flicked the light on. To be frank, Gee was surprised the light bulb even worked. He never used it. It was weird.

 

But that wasn't what was going through Frankie and Josh's minds. They were taking in the scene played out before them.

Brendon Urie was fainted on the floor. Ryan was sat, curled up in a corner and Bob was smirking directly at Gee. Bob had one hand in his jacket, and the other down his pants. He pulled out a gun.

"Hello, esteemed hosts." Bob sneered.

Ryan's head snapped up. "What the hell?! Is that a fucking gun?"

"You bet your pretty ass it is, porn star."

And with that final comment. That last little remark. That drove Ryan over the fucking edge of insanity.

"Give it to me."

"No."

"Fine, then you can do it for me. Shoot me. Kill me. Please."

"I wouldn't waste a precious bullet on a whore like you." Bob chuckled. 

Ryan, a few stray tears strolling down face, lunged forward.

There were tears. A yelp. The sound of gun fire.

 

Ryan lay on the ground. His vision was going white. He could feel blood trickle out from his chest, but felt no pain. He was in too much shock, he supposed. He sensed the gun dropping. Bob beginning to panic. Brendon sitting up. Some people..Josh he thinks as well..crowding him. He laughed. He laughed with his very last breath as the crimson liquid poured out and onto the filthy floor. It was over. He was over. Now he really was a happy boy. The only difference was that he was dead now. But that was okay. He was okay.

Brendon, Josh and Bob were crouched around Ryan's lifeless body in shock. Frank turned to Gee, and quietly whispered, 

"Grab the gun, block the entrance, get to the stairwell, go up, lock the door behind you. I'll be up there." 

 

He nodded. Maybe it was the years of pole dancing that gave him the agility to grab the gun without a single person noticing. That, and the amount of shock everyone was in. 

Gee and Frank were quietly out the door. Frank remembered something.

But he waited till Gee had already the front door completely barricaded. No one would be getting out.

"A shame." Frank said, making eye contact with Josh, who's head shot up.

'A shame.' Was yet another code word in the Iero family. It originated with their associated mafia, but kind of just stuck.

Josh nodded, noticing Gee had already left and the gun was out of sight. 

"I..I'll call the police." Josh said, just as he had practiced. Frank nodded and the others did as well. Brendon looked shocked. Utterly shocked. Bob looked scared. And he had every right to be scared. Especially if he knew how this Saturday night would end.

 

Gee had the front doors shut. No one would be opening these without a blowtorch or a sledge hammer. 

The gun was hidden in his lacy bra, under Frank's coat. 

Frank was waiting at the stairwell top for Gee and Josh. He was on the phone with Joe.

"Look, Joe. I know your busy right now, but this is important. Yes, no it's a shame. Yeah. Weed killer. 5 minutes. Out back. Front doors are jammed, no crowbar is gonna fix that. Uh huh. No. Fine, you can bring Andy, but keep it on the low down. Only cause he's good with bodies. Yup. Yeah. Okay hurry up. Yeah, I've got the dough. Okay. Bye." He hung up. 

Josh was first to the stairs, having talked Brendon out of a panic attack. Wouldn't want any panicking in the club room!

Gee came sneaking up next. Frank quickly ushered them in, and shut the door behind them, locking it. That door was made of pure iron. Ol Grandpa Frankie had made sure of it, for obvious reasons.

 

The door was locked. Joe was on his way with the arsenic and aconite. Jon was downstairs maintaining order. He knew the plan. He'd been through this before. 

Gee decided to sit down on the couch, and play some soft music from my dads old record player. He chose Elvis. We quietly listened to 'If I Can Dream'. Gee seemed completely fine, but he was amazing at hiding emotions. I still chose not to bug him. He didn't like being bugged when he was trying to hide his emotions. 

Josh was another story. He was shaking. I gave him a pat on the shoulder.

"You'll do fine kid."

Shortly, a knock came from the door to the outside. I opened it. 

Joe stood with Andy, a 'friend' of mine. Andy had 4 sleeping bags and a shit ton of plastic wrap. Joe had a paper bag.

I closed the door behind him. 

"What's the plan, Iero?" Andy asked. I could trust him. We'd kill to protect each other. It's what 'family' do. 

"Four bodies down there. One already dead. Ones Jon. And the other two need to be killed."

"Anything else you need disposing of? Cause, I heard the cops are getting kinda suspicious bout this place again." Joe added.

"None that I know of. Gee? You know of anything we need to get rid of?"

Gee stayed silent.

"Gee?"

More silence. Gee was staring intently at his knee. Frank sighed.

"Give us a moment, guys. We'll be in the bedroom. No one move. No one make any loud noises. And don't bother listening in, that room was sound proofed ten years ago." Frank decided, taking Gee's hand delicately, and walking him into the bedroom, shutting the door behind them.

"No one wants to hear you two banging anyways." Joe joked. It might have been funny if this were a different circumstance. But right now, was not the time for jokes, Joe. Jesus, Joe get your shit together and grow up.

 

"What happened Gee? Tell Frankie. I won't be mad. I'll never be mad. I promise, just tell me."

"I-I've been tryna act like it's his fault I killed him. Like I wasn't the one who let the knife slip. God fucking dammit Bob." Gee hissed.

"Woah, babycakes, Bobs alive.."

"I KNOW THAT!"

"Okay! Okay! That's fine, but who's dead then?"

"I..I.."

 

 

"It's fine baby, just tell me. I'll take care of it. You know I will. I always do."

 

 

 

 

"I..I killed Mikey."


	6. Chapter 6

"I know. Where'd you hide him?"

Gee's eyes welled up.

"In the vents." He sobbed, falling forwards and clinging to me.

 

"It's okay, baby boy. Your uncle Andy, hobo Joe and I got this under control. What part of the ventilation system was it?" Frank rubbed Gerard's shoulder.

"The one a-above the club. Not far from w-where Brendon fell. I..I fucking killed him Frank! What the fuck I killed my own brother! All because of fucking Bob Bryar!" He sobbed into Frankie's shirt.

"What's Bob Bryar got to do with it?" Frankie asked.

"I need to tell you some stuff first..promise you won't be mad?" He asked, with honest fear in his eyes.

"I promise."

"O-Okay. Well..Mikey and I..we...we had sex..like..eight times.."

 

I stiffened ever so slightly, but concealed my shock with comfort, stroking Gee's hair. As he quietly continued to cry and tell his tale. How fucking dare Mikey do this to Gee..he knew Gee wasn't well..and he took advantage of that?? Fucking bastard.

 

"A-And Bob..he walked into my room..without asking. Just walked in, looking for sex. But Mikey..Mikey was there. With me. In me. So uh..Bob took a picture..and threatened to tell unless I had sex with him. I honestly wouldn't care if something like that g-got out but Mikey would. Mikey was a respected actor, and wanted to keep it that way. And I wanted to keep him happy. I..I told him I'd deal with it and..and oh god I tried to kill Bob..but he just..he just raped me. Full on raped me. Oh my god. And then he said he'd tell anyways...and then..oh my god..I think I killed Mikey.." His eyes widened. It was like he had just come to this point now. He sobbed into my shirt. I hugged my boy close.

"Don't worry baby. It wasn't your fault. You had an..episode. You didn't mean to. Maybe I just gotta take better care of my boy. In a way, it's my fault. Don't blame yourself, princess."

Gee only cried harder.

"Where'd Iero go? That filthy bastards probably gone off planing my murder." Bob spat, disgusted.   
Just you fucking wait Bob. You piece of fuck.

Jon rolled his eyes. "He's in his quarters, sorting things with the cops."

"You think I'm gonna believe that shit?" Bob threatened.

"Believe it for yourself when the cops come." Jon shrugged, going back to washing glasses.

Bob grunted. "I need a drink. Desperately."

"Same here. Several, actually." Brendon agreed.

Jon hid his grin. "Well, gentlemen, you're both in luck. Our delivery guy is due to arrive in less than half an hour. He always does on Saturday night, rain or shine, murder or no murder. You'll both have yourself a good brandy, and for the inconvenience, it's on the house." Jon offered, knowing the cheap bastards would take it.

"Sounds like a deal, Walker." Brendon said, sitting down.

"I'll take ya up on that one when the time comes." Bob agreed.

And the time did come. Josh came down with a crate full of 'alcohol'. 

Jon mixed up some extra special drinks. Bob was too drunk to notice the emphasis on special. Brendon was no exception, if not worse. 

 

And so they toasted, 

 

 

 

drank, 

 

 

 

and collapsed two drunken messes. 

 

 

 

Dead.

 

Andy was quick to come down with with materials. While he went to work, Frank had Spencer walk Josh home, just to make sure he was safe. Frank then went to Jon, handed him a hundred dollar bill. Jon took it p, with an exchanged smile.

Frank gave Bob a kick to the rib cage. He was fuming with rage about what he had driven Gerard to do. Gerard was..fragile. Everyone knew this. Bob did as well, but that smug bastard used it to his sexual advantage. Frank took Bob's phone and smashed it on the ground, and then picked up the important pieces he would 'properly dispose of' later on. Even though Gee said he didn't care if that photo got out, Frank was taking no chances.

Frank had one last important thing to take care of. He went up the stairs,to wear Gee sat. He looked lost, and disappointed. In himself, Frank figured. That made Frank sad. He sat down next to his boy, hugging him.

"Don even worry babycakes. Frankie's got you. Mikey wasn't your fault. We've got it all taken care of. Alright? Is there anything else you wanna tell me about?"

Gee nodded, wordlessly grabbing Frank's wrist and leading him down the stairs and into his room. Frank hadn't been in here since Gee moved in. Gee was still crying. He pointed to the closet, with no words.

Frank looked from Gee, to the small pine closet in the corner. He gingerly opened it up. 

 

The normal person would have gagged. Or like Brendon, fainted.

 

But this was Frank we were talking about. Someone who's seen multiple bodies lined up, cut, dismembered etc.

 

Frank didn't even flinch.

 

 

Inside the closet were the caucuses of multiple dead animals, and their organs. They looked..off.

 

Something that looked of a cat. A pretty cat, skinned, and gashed opened at the cheeks and the stomach. A few veins and strands of stomach lining dangled from the opened mid section. The cut-open cheeks looked like they had been poked and prodded. There were bite marks all over the creature. 

Another was a frog. A frog that had been cut in half. Split in the center of the stomach. There also appeared to be carvings in the frog's skin. Things Frank couldn't decipher. Things he wasn't sure if he wanted to decipher.

And then there was a bird. A pretty bird. A bird that's legs had been snapped off and stuck down the creature's beak. The wings had been plucked of its feathers. Frank felt a shiver go down his spine. The bird's small eyes had also been scraped out and smudged all over the surrounding area. 

Another thing Frank noticed was a jar. A big enough jar, filled to the brim with a red liquid. He picked the glass container up, turning it around to read the label.

'Animal Blood...And Some Pus (for extra luster)'

 

Frank quickly put the container back. He turned to Gee, who buried his head in his knees in shame. Frank went and wrapped his arms around the boy. His boy.

'I had found a bird on the side walk one day. It was alive, but something was wrong with its wing. It couldn't fly. So i grabbed it. And took it home, to my room. 

I started by plucking one feather. Abstracting it painfully slow, ripping it front the bird's fragile skin. It let out a squeak of distress, as it tried to get away from me but I held it down.

I grabbed a thick rubber band. I secured it around the bird's wings and stomach. It still had its legs. That could be a problem.

Picking up the bird, and turning it sideways, I wrapped my fingers around one leg. A small stick of a leg. 

I snapped it, making a crunch noise that made me flinch, but also shiver in delight.

I did the same to the other leg, relishing in the excitement this gave me.

But now..what to do with the legs? The bird was still alive. Maybe it was hungry. 

 

I forcefully shoved the legs down the bird's beak and into its throat. It made a weird noise. Blood was coming from random ends. Oh, the joy this gave me.

Maybe I'll just pluck a few more feathers. One by one, torn from the sensitive thin layer of skin. With each painfully slow plucking came a slight jolt from the bird, letting me know the creature was still alive and suffering. It could see what was being done to it still, however. I didn't like this. I liked having an element of surprise to my torture.

And so I placed my thumb on one eye, applying a gentle pressure. And then splat. 

And then the same to the other eye.

And then-"

"Don't worry Gee. I don't care. Come on about that stuff. Andy can clean this stuff up. He's not gonna judge either."

"Well he should." Gee decided, his head still down.

"No, he shouldn't."

"Why? Cause I'm mentally retarded? Insane? A lune?" Gee countered, slightly aggressive. Frank wondered if Gee actually took his medication or if he had lied.

"No, Gee. You're not abnormally insane. Everyone's a little insane. It's just more prominent in you now because you're going through rough times." Frank assured Gee, who sniffed.

"I'm absolutely mad."

"You're not. We'll get through whatever this is. Starting today, were going somewhere as soon as these guys clean everything up. Just the two of us."

"R-Really?" Gee asked.

"Yup. Just you and I. Jon, Spencer, Josh..oh and Ray can look after the place while we're gone." Frank nodded, making a mental note to say this to the guys.

"Can't we just close the place down for the day or two were gone?"

"I'm not coming back till you're in a sound state of mind. I'm not sure how long that's gonna take, but I'm positive it's gonna be longer than a few days." Frank said. Gee smiled, throwing his arms around his Frankie.

"I love you Frankie." He mumbled into Frank's neck.

"Love you too darling." Frank said back. 

He pulled back after a moment. "About Mikey.."

"I'll show you where he is." Gee said emotionlessly. Frank tried to put a hand on his shoulder, but Gee shrugged it off, leading Frank to the vent where Mikey was in.

"Ey! Andy! Get in 'ere" Frank yelled. Andy came in.

"Body. In there. Be extra careful with this one. I mean it, Hurley."

Andy onto nodded, working his way into the vent, and disappearing. 

Gee stayed silent. 

Him and me were gonna have to drive for awhile. It'd be a long night until any of them got some sleep.

Frankie and I road in comfortable silence. The slick black car hummed just right. It blended in with the dark night. It was their disguise. 

The drove past trees, desert, over a bridge, and into a somewhat green area. They were hours away from the nearest town. 

Frankie pulled up at a lake. A big lake, with deep murky water, too thick to see the bottom of. Crocodiles inhibited the bottom. But they outta be asleep by now, though. Even if they weren't, Frankie could stop them with his shiny pistol.

We hopped out of the car. He had taken me on these types of trips before. I knew the drill.

We popped the trunk revealing the four sleeping bags. My breathing picked up, knowing Mikey was in one of them.

Frank put a hand on my shoulder. With tears in my eyes, I spun around and hugged him tight, burying my face in his shoulder. He hugged me back. I still hurt. I would be hurting like this for a long time.

We eventually took the four sleeping bags out. It was extremely hot out tonight, which meant the bodies would decompose quicker. Especially when buried underground.

Frank got to digging. I kept watch, more tears threatening to fall as I thought of what I'd done. I shook my head in disgust. I'm so disgusting.

Frank had dug the graves quickly. He was no stranger to these rituals.

I helped him open the bags, one by one revealing each body wrapped in plastic wrap, to keep the smell and liquids to a minimum. Frank unwrapped the first one revealing Brendon Urie. I didn't react. Neither did Frank.

He simply tossed the naked body. 

Frank unwrapped the next figure. Ryan Ross. Poor boy. He was such a cutie, but I'm not into necrophilia. 

Again, just tossed into the small pit.

Next came a far too familiar face, with light brown eyes and a sharp jawline. I gasped, lunging forward and wrapping my arms around the limp body. It was like if I hugged him hard enough he'd come back to life. I'm such a disgusting human being. Look what I've done. Look what I've done it my own brother. What I could have done to Frankie. 

Frank eventually had to tear me away from Mikey. I was thankful, knowing I wouldn't be able to pull away by myself. I watched as he carefully laid the body on its side. I shuffled over to the edge of the pit, looking down on Mikey. My eyes were still watery. 

"F-Frank?" I whispered.

"Yes baby?"

"Could..could I maybe put some flowers in his hair or hand or something..I just..it's the least I could do." I choked out. 

"Oh..of course baby. Of course." 

I nodded, sniffling and still choking on tears as I shuffled around, looking for a makeshift bouquet. Anything to enhance whatever this 'burial' is. 

I had scrounged up a hand full of daisies, a daffodil and a small stem of forget-me-nots. I walked back over, placing the daisies in Mikey's hair, the daffodil in his hand and the forget-me-nots over his still heart. 

Mikey Way was dead and I killed him.

 

I noticed Bob. Bob Bryar. The absolute fucktard was already tossed, all the way on the other side of the pit. 

Frank looked to me to signal him to begin burying. I shook my head.

"N-Not yet, if it's okay. I..I wanna say a last goodbye."

Frank nodded.

I looked down to Mikey, where he lay. It's funny, in cliche books where someone dies..you'd always hear how the corpse looked so at peace. If that isn't the biggest load of fuck I've ever heard I don't know what is. Mikey looked distressed. He was taken. I stole his life. He was gonna go far and I fucking destroyed that. 

"M-Mikey, I'm-I-Im so sorry. I-I d-didn't mean to..But t-that doesn't matter..I've s-still killed you..and..and..and there's nothing I can do about that..except a-apologize..y-you'll never be f-forgotten..I love you Mikey..I-I'll stay strong for you..I-I..Goodbye Mikey...F-foreve-" that was when I began violently sobbing. Forever was a very long time. A frame of time I couldn't deal with. But I would have to. Still, the sobs wracked my body. My throat burned and my body shook. Frank scooped me up and hugged me. I clung to him. 

 

After Frank had finished, he threw the sleeping bags and plastic bags into the lake. He took my hand and led me to the car. We got in and begun to drive. 

The sun began rising, over the horizon. It was now Sunday. Well, I guess there's always next Saturday night, down at Frankie's.  
"I..What do you mean you found nothing?!" Patrick shrieked through the phone.

"I'm..I'm sorry sir but we found no remains..no clues..nothing." The officer insisted.

"No! He was my...he was my everything! Don't fucking call me again until you do find something! Fuck you!" Patrick hung up and huffed, before breaking down and crying.


	7. Chapter 7

"Sarah? Sarah Urie?" A woman called out. Sarah stood up, and walked over. She was dressed to the nines, as usual. 

"Your husband..I'm sorry, but we haven't found him. It's been a month. We can safely presume he's dead." The woman said softly. 

Sarah didn't flinch. She had seen what was coming. 

"Thank you for your time. I appreciate it, and I'm sure Brendon would have too."

The officer nodded and dismissed Sarah. She stared after the soft spoken women, who’s tone contrasted the power emitting from her form. The officer nodded, this time to no one, deep in thought. 

On the limo ride home, Sarah called up a special friend.

"Hey..Frank..Yeah, it's me. Listen, thanks for the favor..yes they've declared it officially. Yeah. No, I'm going to see her right now. On the way as we speak. I'll be sure it gets to you by the end of the month. 5k. Yup. Alright, bye." Sarah hung up, and then pulled a fat cigar out, lighting and placing it between her cherry colored Cupid bow lips. 

~~~

 

No one came to Ryan Ross's memorial. 

He was just some porn star. 

Probably conceited. 

Probably died of aids. 

Probably deserved it. 

Probably.

He was no happier in death than he was alive, and if he was capable he would be filled with regrets.  
A child placed a single red rose on his grave, after he noticed how sad and empty it was in comparison to the ret of the grave yard.  
The next week had hot dry weather and the rose withered quick. 

~~~

"I'm sorry Frankie...I'm a danger to you. I'll come back. I promise, I just..it's better for everyone if I spend some time away. On my own." Gerard smiled sadly down at Frank, who (for the first time in years) had tears welling in his eyes.

"So you're just gonna leave?" Frank sniffed.

"Frankie..I can't stay right now. I'll be back. I promise. Trust me. I love you." Gerard said, before kissing Frank sweetly. It was a soft touch, a show of affection. Gerard gave Frank one last look before grabbing his bag and running. “I love you.” Gerard called out behind him. 

 

"I love you too." Frank whispered.

 

He'd never come back. The thought ran through Frank's mind, making him sick with fear and realization. He ran after Gee. 

 

He caught Gee.

 

He saved Gee.

"Run away with me?"

"Wh-”

“Please?”

Gerard looked at Frank, a mess. He put down his bag, grabbing Frank’s hand instead.  
“Always my dear.”

~~  
End.


End file.
